Sir, how unravell'd is the golden fleece:
Men, that could only fool at FOX AND GEESE,
Are new-made polititians by thy book,
And both can judge and conquer with a look.
The hidden fate of princes you unfold;
Court, clergy, commons, by your law control'd.
Strange, serious wantoning all that they
Bluster'd and clutter'd for, you PLAY.
More verses by Richard Lovelace
- To Lucasta Ode Lyrick
- Upon The Curtain Of Lucasta's Picture, It Was Thus Wrought
- Out Of The Anthologie
- Theophile Being Deny'D His Addresses To King James, Turned The Affront To His Own Glory In This Epigram
- Calling Lucasta From Her Retirement. Ode
